Maisy Molesley
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: parents!Baxley, as per tumblr speculation. Post s5 AU
1. Chapter 1

**The question of "what if Baxley had children?" came up a few times in my asks, so I wrote it. **

Something highly irregular was occurring. Perched on two chairs beside one another, in the male side of the servants' quarters, Mr Molesley and Mr Carson sat, waiting, in diverse states of agitation. They seemed to have been there for days.

What was more irregular still was the door which separated them from the female servants' rooms stood unlocked, slightly ajar. When the commotion had broken, it had been Mrs Carson who acted so quickly, and led Mrs Molesley upstairs to the room she'd inhabited when she was still Miss Baxter, which somehow stood immaculately ready.

All of a sudden, the door opened fully and Joseph got to his feet immediately, Mr Carson doing the same beside him. Isobel Crawley stood before him, wearing a white apron over her evening dress. Her hair was a little out of place, and she looked tired but apart from that nothing about her appearance indicated that anything was wrong. Still, he looked at her expectantly.

Her face broke into a smile.

"Congratulations, Mr Molesley," she told him, extendedly her hand a little to shake his, "A little girl."

He looked at her dumbfounded, barely able to believe it.

"A girl?" he asked, his voice trembling a little.

"Yes," she replied, the smile broadening on her face.

He could barely form his words properly, he was strangely overcome and simply let Mr Carson shake his hand now, barely registering it.

"And they're both alright?" he asked Mrs Crawley a moment later.

"Yes," she assured him, again, "Go in and see for yourself."

He preceded them both through the door and down the corridor to the room that had been Phyllis's. Mrs Carson stood by the chest of drawers, attending to the old bedlinen and towels. She turned towards the door, smiling herself as she saw him come in.

"Congratulations, Mr Molesley," she told him, making her way towards the door with the used linen.

His eyes settled on the bed in the middle of the room, and on Phyllis sitting up in bed and on the little bundle of white blanket in her arms. Mrs Carson must have helped her into a clean night gown and her hair was pulled gently away from her face.

"Oh, my love," he murmured, taking a step towards her, to them both, "Are you alright?"

"Just about," she replied, a touch ruefully, "At the moment I'm very glad it wasn't twins."

He smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"What have we got here, then?" he asked softly, leaning over a little to peer into the blanket, "Oh, Phyllis," he murmured softly, "She's gorgeous."

She was. A tuft of very dark hair was already visible atop her head. Her features were tiny beyond belief, immaculately formed, perfect beyond words. Her eyes were closed and she lay in a state of complete peacefulness. Phyllis stroked one of her fingers along the side of their daughter's cheek, caressing her softly so that she did not wake up.

"She is, isn't she?" she agreed quietly, "Would you like to hold her?"

He nodded, and, very carefully, she handed her over to him.

"Oh, Phyllis-…" he said again.

He could barely see the child now, his eyes were so full of tears. Her hand settled gently on his arm.

"I know," she replied simply, "I know."

"I love you so much," he murmured, looking down at the baby, "I love you both so much."

She watched him tenderly.

"I love you too," she replied.

They were quiet for a moment.

"Do you still like Maisy?" she asked him.

"What?" he asked her, having been absorbed in tracing the line of that perfect tiny face.

"As a name?" she asked him, "Masiy?"

"Yes," he replied, "But I thought you didn't?"

"It grew on me," she replied, "And I think it suits her."

"Yes, it does," he agreed.

"And maybe Elsie as a middle name," she suggested, because Mrs Carson was such a help.

"I think she'd like that," he told her.

She smiled.

"Good," she replied.

**End.**

**Please review if you have the time. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A few years later…**

"Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!"

Phyllis turned around sharply at the sound of that familiar little voice, as it came buying closer to her through the train station. She could hardly believe it, she clapped a gloved hand to her mouth. By the time she spotted them, they were close to her, and she immediately spread out her arms to receive them. Approaching her, with identical smiles on their faces, was her husband, and in his arms, their daughter.

"It's you!" she said, dumbfounded, to Joseph, carrying Maisy in his arms, as he approached her, "Her Ladyship said that one her friend's was coming down and I hand to meet her."

"Well, I've always thought her Ladyship was fond of our Maisy," he told her, "I think she reminds her of Miss Sybbie."

Phyllis couldn't say any more. The three of them stood, in the foyer of King's Cross Station, embracing each other for long moments. Joseph's head turned a fraction towards hers.

"Happy Birthday, my darling," he told her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"I've missed you both so much," she told them both quietly, giving quick kiss by Joseph's ear, before taking Maisy out of his arms, sitting her in their accustomed way, with her on her hip, with her little legs around her waist.

"We miss you, Mummy!" Maisy told her, looking up at her, beaming from ear to ear.

Joseph reached out, ruffling Maisy's dark hair very gently.

"She hasn't quite got the past tense yet," he explained softly, "But we'll get there."

"Never mind," Phyllis told her daughter softly, "You're my clever girl, aren't you, Maisy?"

Maisy nodded happily.

"Happy birthday, Mummy!" she told her, throwing her little arms around Phyllis's neck.

"Thank you, my love," she told her, giving her a kiss in her thick hair.

She looked over her daughter's shoulder at Joseph.

"Are you in cahoots with her Ladyship?" she asked him softly.

He nodded in reply.

"She felt guilty that she was taking you away to London over your birthday," he replied, "She insisted."

"And I'm glad she did," Phyllis replied, looking at Maisy's face- she was still smiling. "Were you good on the train for daddy?"

Maisy nodded again, with intense sincerity and she looked to Joseph, her eyebrow raised a little, for confirmation.

"With many promises of ice cream," he affirmed.

"Right, then!" she declared, "Off we go, then! Ice cream it is!"

"When do you have to be back by?" he asked her, as they set off.

Phyllis thought back. Now that she remembered, her Ladyship had seemed to tell her very pointedly that she would see her this afternoon.

"Not for a while yet," she replied.

"Good," he replied, smiling.

"What time is your train back?" she asked him.

"Ten o'clock."

"That's late," she replied.

"Tomorrow morning," he clarified.

"You're staying the night?" she asked, ecstatic, surprised, then, in a low voice, "Where's Maisy going to sleep?"

"Mrs Hughes said she'd telephone Lady Rosamund's housekeeper and have the room next to yours made up for her. A bit of a liberty, certainly, but who is Lady Rosamund's housekeeper to refuse Lady Grantham's express wishes?"

"Don't let her here you say that," Phyllis cautioned him, grinning a little.

He smiled back.

"Do you hear that, Maisy?" Phyllis told her, "You're going to sleep in a big girl bed tonight."

Maisy looked a little bit alarmed.

"Will I fall out?"

"No, of course not, my precious."

"Alright," Maisy grinned.

"You'll have plenty of space," she told her.

"We won't," Joseph remarked quietly to her.

"We've managed before, we'll manage again," she told him, "It's a very small price to pay."

**End.**

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Someone wanted pre-Maisy, and here it is. Hope you like it. **

"Joseph!"

He turned around quickly as he heard his name murmured urgently in the corridor. The voice he recognised, but for a moment he did not know where it was coming from. Then, he saw, the door to the boot room had been left pointedly ajar.

He slipped inside. He did not ask whether or not this was urgent enough to need discussing in the middle of the day, something in her tone of voice, the way she had brought him in here told him it was.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"Shut the door," she told him first.

He did as she asked him, coming to stand before her by the table.

"Maybe you should sit down," she suggested.

Again, he did as she asked him, but not without questioning her, "Phyllis, is there something wrong?"

She reached out towards him gently, almost timidly, taking hold of his hand, squeezing it gently. He squeezed her hand in return, willing her to tell him what was going on.

"I've just been to the hospital," she told him quietly.

"Oh good God!" Suddenly, he had ahold of both her hands, pulling her so close toward him that she stood between his knees, with which he almost tried to form a protective wall around her, "Tell me, Phyllis, what is wrong?!"

"Nothing is wrong," she told him, gently extracting her hands from his grasp, resting one of them on his thigh, trying to calm him, "Not strictly speaking anyway." Her other hand, newly freed, lingered close to her stomach.

"Then, wh-….?"

"I'm pregnant," she told him softly.

He looked at her almost uncomprehendingly for a moment.

"You're-…"

She nodded calmly.

"Yes," she confirmed, "Dr. Clarkson is certain of it."

He was still quiet, looking utterly taken aback.

"How do you feel?" she asked him softly.

She took his hand in hers again, and to her relief he gripped back in response.

"You're going to be a father," she told him softly.

Then, she saw it, his lips began to curl, slowly at first, into a gentle smile. He reached for her other hand, and she offered it willingly. Raising it to his lips, he kissed her knuckles softly. Her heart rate was only just beginning to return to normal when he looked up at her.

"Phyllis, this is wonderful," he said, his voice quite hushed.

"I'm glad you think so," she told him, meaning it very much, "You had me worried for a moment there."

"It was a bit of a shock," he admitted.

"Of course it was," she agreed, untangling her hand from his for a moment to cup his face tenderly, to run back over his hair, "At my age."

"No, I mean, _me_… A father… I never thought I'd-…"

He looked up at her with such wonderment in his eyes that made her eyes begin to well with tears.

"Oh, Joseph, come here," she told him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him to herself almost fiercely. His arms cradled her lower back, resting his head gently against her chest. She kissed the top of his head, letting him settle in the crook of her neck, still holding onto her.

"At least we're engaged," he murmured softly, after a long while.

She lifted her head in confusion.

"We're not engaged, are we?" she asked him.

He looked up at her.

"We are if you want us to be," he replied.

She looked back, and the broadest smile he had ever seen spread across her face.

"Joseph Molesley, you are beyond belief sometimes!"

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes, you daft man!"

She held his face in her hands, kissing him soundly. As they broke apart, she caressed the line of his cheeks with her thumbs. Still, he held her protectively.

"I love you," she whispered to him.

"And I love you," he replied, "I love you so much."

"This is the happiest I've ever been," she confided in him, "Even though we might not have jobs by the end of the day."

"There is such a thing as a special licence," he told her.

"What, you mean get married, and then tell them everything?" she asked him.

He nodded.

"A few more days won't make any real difference, will it?" he asked her.

She smiled again.

"You don't get half the credit you deserve, Mr Molesley," she told him.

"I don't care," he replied, "The fact that you just said that means more than the whole world knowing about my genius."

She laughed out loud, pulling him back towards her for another kiss.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A name-choosing chapter, for a tumblr prompt. **

"What about Carol? And Carrie for short? What? Why are you wrinkling your nose?" she asked him, "Don't you like Carrie?"

They were tucked up together under the bedspread. It was their third Sunday in their cottage. He was still wearing his dressing gown, he had slipped out of bed to bring her some tea and jumped straight back in once he had done so. But now, he was, he was wrinkling his nose in disapproval.

"What's wrong with Carrie?" she pressed him.

"Carrie Molesley?" he asked her, "It doesn't sound right. It's the "ee" sound."

She gently stroked her protruding stomach.

"Well, she can change it if she wants to go onto the stage," she told him softly.

"Our daughter is not going on the stage," he told her firmly, "Not if I have anything to do with it. She's going to go to school so she can have a good job."

"You sound like Mr Carson," she told him, smiling.

He took ahold of her hand gently.

"And what if I do?" he asked her quietly, "I want more for our daughter than we had. Is that wrong of me?"

She looked up at him.

"Of course not, Joseph," she told him quietly, "Of course it's not."

He leant in towards her. Kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. She pulled away, a fraction.

"I still like Carrie, though."

He huffed visibly, moving his head back sharply in frustration and she chuckled.

"You like Maisy," she told him, "And that has an "ee" sound too!"

"Yes, but the M's take care of it," he told her.

"You know that makes no sense whatever?" she asked.

"Yes, it does!" he insisted. She raised her eyebrows in reply, and he swiftly went on, "You do know, if we're wrong and it's a boy all this planning will be for nothing?"

"I know," she replied, "But I have a feeling she's a girl. And so does Mrs Patmore."

"How would she know?" he asked her.

She shrugged.

"I have no idea. But she seems pretty certain."

"How do you fancy Beryl for a name?" he asked her.

"I think there's only room for one Beryl in that kitchen," she replied.

He smiled at her.

"You're probably right," he replied, "But I like the idea of naming her after someone… Not the family, though."

"Oh, thank God you said that," she told him, looking at him warily.

"We may share some opinions, but you are not, in fact, married to Mr. Carson," he told her.

She burst out laughing.

"And thank _God _for that!" she told him. She squeezed his hand tightly in hers, lifting it up to her lips, kissing his fingers and looking back at him over his knuckles, "He could never make me laugh like you do. No one can."

Gently disentangling his hand, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him, resting his other hand gently on her stomach.

"We've got a little bit of time yet," he told her softly, "We don't need to decide anything now."

"No, you're right," she agreed, "There's plenty of time for you to come round to my way of thinking."

She heard him laughing softly by her ear and a smile spread across her face.

"Just imagine how much we're going to disagree about godparents," he told her softly.

"I was thinking Mr and Mrs Carson," she told him.

"So was I," he replied.

She looked at him in surprise.

"Do you?"

"Yes," he told her, "Who else?"

A grin spread across her face.

"Well at least we've managed to decide on something," she told him.

He extended his hand to her in mock seriousness.

"Productive morning, Mrs Molesley," he told her, shaking her hand.

"Thank you, Mr Molesley," she replied with too much earnestness, before bursting out laughing, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him forwards to kiss him.

**Please review if you have the time. **


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